


vi. wearing each other's clothes

by foundCarcosa



Series: 3o Days of Sebsino [6]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The simple art of switching roles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vi. wearing each other's clothes

"I wonder how you would look in armour," Sebastian muses.

"I wonder how you would look in mage's robes," Orsino counters.

And sometimes their banter remained that -- only banter, pillow talk, the idle exchanges of longtime comrades. Other times, Sebastian would get that glint in his warm eyes, that slight curve in his full lips, and Orsino would ask what he was thinking, only to be met with mischievous silence.

"Shall I bring you to an armourer, have you fitted into the raiment of a rogue?" Sebastian teases.

"Shall I bring you to the Formari, have them drape you in wool and velvet?" Orsino retorts.

There is a Dalish elf Sebastian knows, some friend of a friend, willowy like Orsino and roughly the same height. He lends Sebastian a suit of linen, boiled leather cuirass and skirt, greaves and gauntlets and soft skin boots.  
One of the older apprentices, a lad from Ostwick, broad of shoulder and tending towards brawniness, did not return from the Harrowing chamber. Len had already crafted his robes, because they'd been sure he'd pass. Orsino asks for the garments, and Len has no desire to ask why.

"I ought bring you a set of daggers, as well, or perhaps a longbow," Sebastian asserts.

"I ought bring you a staff, or would you rather use those clever hands of yours?" Orsino comments.

Sebastian helps Orsino into the hardened leather pieces, pulling the halla-horn buckles tight. The mage feels constricted, like a figure released from stone by a sculptor only to be eternally locked into one pose. The rogue plunges his fingers into Orsino's lank grey hair and tousles it until it is wild, tumbling into and around his face.

"A rogue," Sebastian says, satisfied, "a wild and ageless Dalish rogue."

"Yet, I look nothing like you," Orsino responds, laughing shortly. Touching gloved fingertips to his hair, his flushed cheek, the amulet around his bare neck.

"Of course not."  
Sebastian steps up behind him, both of them now framed in the long looking-glass, the rogue draped in soft blue wool and lush crimson velvet, rich fabrics emblazoned with the sun sigil of the Chantry.  
"I look nothing like you, either."

"You look very enticing in those," Orsino murmurs, his voice husky, his fingers twitching.

"Then take them off me."

And Orsino might have been the mage, but his fingers were quicker and defter than ever, his tongue looser and more wicked than usual, and Sebastian might have been the rogue, but his touch lit up Orsino's skin like a fiery spell, his eyes bluer than lyrium, his drowsy smile as they slipped into slumber warmer than the sun.


End file.
